


Thanksgiving in Hell, Nebraska

by lucifersfavoritechild



Series: Ironstrange Fics [5]
Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Arguing, Bad Parenting, Discussion of Homophobia, Family as Satan, Fluff, Holidays, Homophobia, Horses Are The Only Good Thing The Country Has to Offer, M/M, Stephen Strange Needs a Hug, Thanksgiving, That One Family Member That Always Borrows Money But Never Pays You Back, Tony Has No Concept of Money, Tony Stark Can't Cook, from tumblr, holiday fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-29 13:27:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16744870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucifersfavoritechild/pseuds/lucifersfavoritechild
Summary: Tony and Stephen join the Strange family for Thanksgiving.It . . . doesn't go well.(Originally on Tumblr, I'm bringing it here to make it easier to find.)





	Thanksgiving in Hell, Nebraska

“This is a terrible idea.”

Stephen had been repeating the same thing with few variations for the past two weeks. Tony was kind of tired of it.

“Almost there,” Tony said cheerfully.

Stephen glared at him. “This is your fault.”

“I got that.”

“You couldn't have told them we already had plans? Something in a different country, maybe?”

“I didn't realize you would be so against the idea. Besides, we could have cancelled.”

“Oh, no we couldn't. I would never have lived it down if I did.”

Stephen could admit that his parents seemed to have changed a lot over the past twenty years. Or at least enough for him not to immediately hang up the phone on them. But how did that translate to spending Thanksgiving with them?

“It's only a few days.”

“ _Four_ days.”

“Now you're just nitpicking.”

“Tony, four days with my family is four _years_ in linear time. And why are you being so calm about this?”

“One of us has to be calm at all times. If we're both being bitchy, then nothing would ever get done. And besides,” he took a hand off the steering wheel to grab Stephen's hand and run a thumb over his scars, “if everything goes right — unlikely, I know, but stay with me — then this time next year, we'll have a kid. And I'd like it if they knew their family.”

Stephen flushed. “Never knew you to be so sentimental, Tony,” but there was no bite in his voice. “Fine. Let's get through the next four days.”

* * *

“Is that it?”

They were coming up on Stephen’s old home, a small farmhouse barely large enough for the five people it once hosted. It was the only building within a mile. Stephen almost thought he could smell the cows and horses from here.

“Yes.”

“It's . . .” Tony struggled to find the right word, “nice. Very . . . homey. Rustic.”

“Tony, stop trying.” His parent’s car — somehow the same one from when he was eighteen — was in the driveway, looking as though it was ready to give out any second. “Pull in behind the car. It’ll piss my dad off.”

Tony parked them beside the car instead, presumably just to annoy him. By the time they had pulled in, the front door was open, revealing a short, white-haired woman in her sixties watching them.

Stephen sighed. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”

He walked up the steps to the porch like he was heading to his own funeral. When he came face-to-face with his mother, neither of them seemed to know what to do. Finally, Stephen said, “Hi . . . mom.” He couldn’t help a grimace. He hadn’t wanted to say it, but couldn’t think of anything better.

“Stephen.” Beverly’s voice was soft, like she couldn’t believe he was in front of her. “I almost thought you would cancel at the last minute.”

 _Tony wouldn’t let me._ Rather than say that out loud, he turned to Tony, holding out a hand to urge him further. “Mom, this is Tony Stark, my husband.”

Tony put on his most charming smile and shook Beverly’s hand. “It’s lovely to meet you, Mrs. Strange.”

Beverly clearly didn't know what to make of Tony, but she took his hand with a slight smile. “Please dear, call me Bev.”

It pained Stephen not to roll his eyes.

“Well, why don't you two come in? Your dad's in the living room, Stephen. You boys can just set your stuff down in Stephen's old room.”

Unfortunately, there was no way to get to his room without passing through the living room. Steeling himself, Stephen followed his mother with Tony close behind. As soon as they entered the living room, Eugene Strange saw them and stood, eyeing them both with an almost calculating gaze.

Stephen nodded in acknowledgement. “Father.” It was only slightly better than the alternative.

“Stephen.” Eugene was similar to his wife in age and how unassuming he appeared, though he was taller with hair that was closer to the silver of Stephen's temples than his wife's snowy white. “And you must be the Stark boy.”

 _I'm forty-eight._ “That's me.”

“Huh. Thought you'd be taller.”

Stephen couldn't resist a snort.

“Don't let me hold you up. Go ahead and put your stuff away. Just be downstairs for dinner.”

“Of course,” Stephen said before all but sprinting upstairs.

Tony followed awkwardly behind, pausing to wave awkwardly at his hosts.

They waved back.

“We survived first contact,” Tony said, setting his suitcase on the floor.

“ _Barely_ ,” Stephen said dramatically.

“It wasn't that bad.”

“Only because you don't know them.” Stephen flopped onto the bed, burying his face in a pillow.

Tony came up behind him, kneeling on the bed. “Hey.” He started to gently massage Stephen's shoulders. “It's gonna be fine. We'll take a little break, eat dinner, then be done with the day. Okay?”

After a moment of indecision, Stephen nodded. “Okay.”

* * *

Dinner was uneventful, if strained. Victor wouldn't arrive until the following day, so it was just the four of them. Stephen collapsed into bed as soon as he could. “That was _exhausting_.”

“It wasn’t _that_ bad,” Tony insisted. “Really, compared to the family dinners my family used to have, it was practically functional.”

“That’s because your family is even more fucked up than mine. It’s not an endorsement.”

Turning off the light, Tony rolled his eyes. It was clear that Stephen was not going to give up his bad mood easily. It was time for advanced methods.

Tony joined Stephen in the too-small bed, pulling the mothball-smelling covers over them. Not the most romantic setting, but he could work with it. He tucked his chin into the crook of Stephen’s neck and wrapped his arms around his husband’s waist. His lips brushed against Stephen’s neck.

“Really, Tony?” Stephen says with an eye roll. “This really isn’t the best time.”

“I don’t know. It’s kind of hot.”

“What about this is hot?” His voice drastically decreased in volume halfway through, aware of his parents in the nearby room.

Tony shrugged. “Guess I just like the idea of debauching you in your old room while we have to keep quiet.” He leaned closer to Stephen’s ear, keeping his voice down. “I feel like a horny teen.”

“I know how rare that feeling is for you these days, dear.”

“Someone’s getting awful _smart_.” Tony lowered his hands to the front of Stephen’s pajama bottoms. “Gotta fix that.”

* * *

Stephen was in a much better mood when he woke up, and even smiled at his mother when he entered the kitchen. “Morning.”

“Good morning, dear.” Bev handed him a cup of coffee. “How’d you sleep?”

Stephen grinned. “Like a dream. Where’s Tony?”

“He told your dad he’d take a look at the car. Think he was getting a bet restless waiting for you to wake up. He was already downstairs when I got down.”

“Yeah, I should have warned you. Tony has the _worst_ sleeping habits.” _When he sleeps._ “Where’s d- father?”

“He’s tending the cows. Takes him longer to get it down these days, especially with you and your brother gone.” She shook her head.

“If it helps, I can handle the horses.” He didn’t care one way or another about helping, but the horses were one of the few things he’d genuinely missed about Nebraska.

. . .

Actually, it was the _only_ thing he missed about Nebraska.

He finished off an apple before heading out. There were only three horses left. _They must have sold the others. Or they died._ There were two he recognized. The other was younger, probably less than ten. He went to the oldest first with a smile. “Hey, Ginger.” The hose probably didn’t recognize him, but she was the first thing he’d seen that made him feel that sense of _home_. “You’re getting a bit on in years. Makes me feel old.”

By the time he’d gone through the process of grooming and feeding the horses, he felt a thousand times better than he had the day before.

 _I’ll need it_ , he thought. They always cooked the food for Thanksgiving the day before — meaning he’d have to spend hours in the kitchen with his family.

He washed up in the kitchen. “I’m guessing we’ll have to pick up some last minute stuff from the store. Start cooking around noon. Tony can't cook worth shit, so he's on cranberry sauce and devilled eggs. I would like to see you try to mess those up.” He paused. “Well, maybe don’t try to mess up the eggs.”

“Seems like you got it all figured out.”

Stephen froze before turning around. “Victor.”

They stared at each other before Victor crossed the kitchen and pulled him into a stiff hug. “It’s so good to see you again.”

“You too, baby brother,” Stephen said, though he didn’t sound happy.

Victor smiled. “I can’t wait to meet your . . . husband.”

_Joy._

* * *

“What do I do with the egg . . . innards?” Tony asked, looking at a boiled egg quizzically.

“It’s part of the filling, sweetheart,” Stephen said without looking up from the recipe book his mother had out. “Do we really need ham _and_ turkey? It’s only for five people.”

“The leftovers are going to keep your father and I halfway through December. Besides, I want the ham for soup.”

“What else goes with the eggs?” Tony asked, carefully cutting a messily-peeled egg in half with a butterknife.

“I wrote it down for you, Tony.”

Tony looked at the little index card tucked on the counter. “I see that now.” A beat passed. “You know, it is a _blessing_ to be able to read your handwriting.”

“Love you too.” Stephen pretended not to see the uncomfortable look that passed over his mother’s face. “We'll get started on the turkey first. It probably won't be done properly until morning.”

“Turkeys take that long?” Tony asked.

“They're very labor-intensive.”

“Now I feel bad for Jarvis. He was always in charge of making them for Thanksgiving parties.”

Bev looked up at him. “Oh, was Jarvis a family member of yours?”

“He was my family's butler.”

“. . . Oh.”

“Yeah. He was like family, though, just the kind you pay instead of the kind you would pay to stay away.”

Stephen barked out a laugh. Bev gave him a look. He kept laughing.

“He sounds nice,” Bev said cautiously.

“Oh, he was great. I keep trying to convince Stephen we should hire a butler to help once we adopt, but he insists we don't need one.”

“Tony, we'll be perfectly fine on our own—”

“Excuse me?” Bev interrupted, looking at her son. “Adopt?”

Stephen leveled his gaze with her. “Tony and I are planning to adopt. Is that a problem?”

Bev smiled. “Of course not. I've always wanted grandchildren. Your brother only has one, and she's with that awful woman. And with Donna gone, God rest her soul, I'd given up hope on ever having more.” She squeezed Stephen's hand. “I can't wait.”

Stephen smiled wanly.

After a moment of awkward silence, Tony said, “This is great. You guys should come to our place next year.”

Stephen gave him a sharp look.

Tony shrugged before turning and tapping something out on his phone. A moment later, Stephen received a text. ‘I figure if I make Thanksgiving a thing, we never have to see them for Christmas.’

Stephen chuckled. 'I see why they call you a genius.’

Before Tony could respond, they heard the front door open. “We got the meat!” Victor called out. Stephen sighed.

Eugene came in first with Victor close behind, both of them carrying Walmart bags. “It's a war zone down there,” Eugene complained, setting his share of the bags down. “Thought I was gonna have to fight an old woman for that turkey.”

Bev checked the bags, nodding her approval. “Eugene, you go sit and rest your back. Victor can help Stephen prep the turkey.”

“Yes, ma’,” Victor said good-naturedly. While Stephen was busy with the food, he tapped Tony's shoulder. “Hey, do you mind coming outside and talking to me for a minute?”

Tony looked down at his eggs. He had a feeling they would fare better with him gone. “Sure.” He followed Victor outside to the porch. “Everything okay?” He had no idea what to expect apart from Stephen's warning not to give him any money. _“That man is a leech. I was giving him money when I was busy working my ways school and playing off student loans. Don't let him start with you.”_

So it wasn't super surprising when he said, “Man, I've had a really bad year. My girl left me, and she said I couldn't see our kid if I didn't start paying child support. But I lost my job, and I haven't been able to find a new one—”

Tony cut him off. “Say no more.” He took out his phone. “How much do you need?”

Victor hesitated. “A lot.”

“Specifically?”

“. . . Twenty-five thousand.” He shrugged, eyes down. “I've also got bills and rent, and I took out a loan to pay them—”

Tony held up a hand to cut him off. “I'll give you thirty.” Stephen would understand. What was a bit of cash between family?

Victor, clearly shocked that he gave in so quickly, grinned. “Really? Dude, thanks!” He forced himself to calm down. “I swear I'll pay you back, I just need to get back on track—”

“Don't. Consider it an early Christmas present. What's your bank info?”

* * *

“No, Tony,” Stephen said, taking away the spice bottle from his husband, “you only add the paprika when it’s done, if you put it _in_ the filling it’ll be too much if you use it as garnish.”

“What if I don’t do that?”

“Have you ever seen devilled eggs without paprika on top? It just looks weird. Tony, just— just come here. Tony, what are you doing. Tony, put the mayonnaise down.”

“It says two spoons of mayonnaise,” Tony pointed out.

“That spoon is too big. Use a normal spoon — you know what, just go ahead and get started on the cranberry sauce.”

“I can finish this,” Tony insisted, refusing to hand over the bowl filled with egg yolks and relish.

“No, Tony, I don’t think you can.” He managed to wrestle the bowl away from his husband and passed a bag of cranberries to him. “There, it’s just water, sugar, berries, and heat, you literally cannot mess it up.” Once he convinced Tony to work on the sauce, he sighed. “Victor, mix this up, I need to baste the turkey and I can’t handle this right now.”

“Got it.”

Stephen stopped and looked at his brother. “What?”

Victor stared at him, looking around in confusion. “ . . . Got it?”

Stephen gave him a suspicious look before nodding. “Okay.”

They continued with their assignments, Stephen and Bev at the table and Tony and Victor at the counter. For a while, Stephen watched his younger brother. He was working happily, even humming under his breath — a vast change from the sulky, lazy man that Stephen had always known. Even hours earlier, he was different. It took a while for the source of the change to dawn on him.

“Tony,” Stephen began, his voice low, did you give my brother money?”

The entire kitchen stilled. Tony didn’t seem to notice the tension, simply shrugging while he continued to stir. “Not a lot. Just like, thirty thousand dollars.”

Stephen stared at him. “. . . You really have no concept of anything, do you Tony?”

Tony looked back to see Stephen and Bev staring at him. “What, you told me not to give him a lot of money, and I listened.”

“You told him that?” Victor asked.

Stephen looked at his accusing family members. “Yes, I did, because I _know_ you, Victor.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Victor demanded, standing up.

Stephen rolled his eyes. “It means that when life gets hard, and you roll over. The reason you can’t hold a job is because you’d rather have things handed to you than put in an ounce of effort. We’re luck you haven’t eaten our parents out of house and home.”

“Oh, _I_ don’t work for things?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Really, Stephen? How much are you wearing?”

“What?”

“Between the tailored clothes, custom leather shoes, and luxury watch, how much are you wearing right now? And how much of it did you _earn_ with your status of glorified fuck toy?”

“Victor!” Bev shouted, scandalized.

Stephen ignored her, staring his brother down. “I can’t perform surgery anymore because of my _hands_. I still put myself through _years_ of school, got a medical degree _and_ a PhD, and worked for years in a hospital while you were happy to leech off of everyone who would let you.”

“Yeah, you did all that. Then when things didn’t work out how you wanted, you decided ‘eh, I’m done’, and married a man ten years older than you _for his money!”_

Incensed, Stephen yelled, “As if you could ever find someone _willing to marry you!_ ”

“Oh, please! You always thought you were better than the rest of us, you just got worse at hiding it!”

“Who says I'm hiding it?”

“So now you admit it! I swear to God, ever since Donna died, you were just _waiting_ to get away from us—”

_“Don't you dare bring up Donna to me!”_

“Victor!” Eugene snapped, standing in the doorway. “That's too far.”

“ _Victor_ ,” Bev said, gripping the table, “you shouldn’t speak to your brother like that.”

Victor swirled around to look at her. “Really, mom? You're the one who kicked him out! I heard you! You wouldn't have been so happy to have a son-in-law then!”

“You kicked him out?” Tony asked, speaking for the first time since the argument started. He was staring at Bev, his back to the others. “I thought he just left for school and then you guys lost touch.”

“I _did_ leave for school,” Stephen bit out. “It just so happened to coincide with my parents finding out that I was less then a hundred percent straight.”

An uncomfortable silence settled over the room. The Stranges all looked ashamed of themselves — except for Stephen, who just looked angry and bitter.

“I'm sorry,” Tony said quietly. “I'm sorry, Stephen. If I'd known about that, I never would have agreed to come here.”

The room was quiet. Eugene, Bev, and Victor were all looking down, seeming ashamed.

Stephen spoke first. “Tony, I think we should leave.”

Tony nodded once and went upstairs to get their stuff. Victor tried to stop him, saying, “Look, I'll give you back the money—”

“Keep it.” Tony left without another word.

“Stephen, no,” Bev said, standing up as she realized it was really happening. Her voice was shaking. “Please, I want you to stay—”

“Then why did you tell me to leave?” Stephen asked. He didn’t even sound hurt. Just tired.

“I'm sorry,” Bev said, “but if I'd known you wouldn't come back, I would never have—”

“Then maybe you shouldn't have told me not to.” He started to leave before stopping. “And just for the record, I _didn't_ think of coming back. Tony did.” He didn’t bother to slam the door.

* * *

They checked into the nearest hotel that Tony could enter without visibly grimacing. After an hour, Tony turned off his phone so they wouldn’t have to hear it ring every few minutes.

They sat in the bathtub with Stephen leaning back against Tony. Tony played with his hair. “You okay?”

It took a moment for him to nod. “I’m okay.”

“How come you never told me about your parents?”

Stephen started to shrug, but gave up, instead sinking them deeper into the water. “It was in the past. I wanted it to stay there.”

Tony pressed a kiss to the back of his neck, listening to Stephen sigh with content. “I’m sorry I brought it back.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“It kind of was.” Before Stephen could argue, he said, “You know, I bet if we get an early flight we can make it to New York for the Macy's parade.”

“Oh good, standing in the cold for hours on end and watching oversized balloons float bye.”

“See, you're already back to yourself.”

Stephen laughed. “Thank you, Tony.”

Tony held him tighter. “Anytime.”

* * *

“How'd you know I was here.”

Stephen and Eugene stood under a dull grey sky, both of them looking down at the gravestone.

“I figured when your boy said you weren't at the hotel that you'd be here.”

“I didn't want to leave without saying hi.”

“Of course not. She's the only reason you ever came home before.”

Stephen looked up in surprise.

“You think I didn't know? I come here too. Same day every year.” He shrugged. “Twice if I'm feeling emotional.”

Stephen turned back to his sister's grave. “I'm not coming back. Tony and I are going to take the car back and catch a plane to New York.”

His father nodded once in acknowledgement. “You know, your mom kept saying you'd be back. For the summer, for Thanksgiving, for your birthday, for Christmas, for Victor, for Donna. It broke her heart when she realized you really were gone.”

“Then why did she tell me to leave?” Stephen demanded. “If she was so fucking _sad_ , why do it in the first place?”

“She thought you wouldn't do it. Said you'd realize she was right and come home.”

“She wasn't right. Not about that. About me.”

“I know that. And so did she, after a while.”

“Then why did it take you _twenty years_ to call us? Why wait so long?”

Eugene wasn't looking at him. He couldn't. “She's as proud as you. She didn't want to be the one to give in. Then it was the shame. She didn't think she could face you. That's why I had to be the one to call. Couldn't take the family being apart anymore.”

“Really? I had the opposite reaction.”

“Yeah. ‘S why I waited until your boy picked up a call to invite y’all up here. What?” he asked when Stephen looked surprised. “You think I don’t know what you’re like? You weren’t going to come on your own.”

Stephen laughed harshly. “Kind of blew up in your face, didn’t it?”

“Yeah, don’t rub it in.” He held Stephen’s eyes. “Think you can try and come to dinner and leave later?”

Stephen thought about it before shaking his head. “I can't. I can't and I won't. Maybe we can try again next year. But I'm done for now. I just want to spend the rest of the day alone with my husband.”

Understanding, Eugene nodded. “Figured as much. I’ll leave ya’ to say your goodbyes.”

Eugene walked away, leaving Stephen alone with Donna. He stayed there for a long time before going back to Tony.


End file.
